A Few of Our Favorite Things
by FarenMaddox
Summary: 4 oneshots that briefly continue the stories of my Redemption characters. They're posted in chronological order, but you don't have to read them that way! Rated T for language, because I'm never sure of the guidelines on that.
1. A Quidditch Match

A Quidditch Match

_For Arctic Fire:_

_Because even Harry Potter can't be saving the world every minute of every day!_

Harry stepped out onto the Quidditch pitch and took a deep, cleansing breath of warm air, slightly damp and smelling of new-mown grass. It was in great shape for the coming Quidditch season; all the goal hoops were freshly painted and one whole section of stands had been rebuilt after Letty Burns had nearly fallen through a rotting board last year. It was good to be back here, after the terrible summer they'd had in the United States. Coming home released a constriction on his breathing that had seemed to build up all summer, like he wasn't properly alive unless he was home. And the Quidditch pitch was a place where he could forget Annie Bradshaw's death and all the frustrations that were sure to come with Shawn Randall adjusting to his new life here.

All in all, he was sad about giving it up.

There was little choice about it, since he couldn't make the full-time commitment Minerva needed from a Quidditch coach. He'd barely scraped together enough time last year, and Hogwarts was rapidly becoming the bustling, packed castle it had been when he first remembered it. They needed a real Quidditch coach, and this girl who had applied seemed perfect. She had just moved into a little cottage in Hogsmeade, so she was apparently certain of landing the position—as well she should be, she was a former professional Quidditch player who'd retired from the Holyhead Harpies last year.

Harry just hoped she showed up soon. Ginny wanted him to get back home to help her with a doxy infestation she'd found in the attic, and that would probably take all afternoon. Harry wanted to have time to play with the kids tonight. After their weird summer, he wanted to make sure they were settling back in. He usually didn't care if people were a couple of minutes late, but it bothered him that she was late to a job interview when she lived only minutes away.

The sight of someone on a broom caught his eye from the down the hill that led to Hogsmeade, and he assumed it was her. He judged her riding form. Low against the broom for speed, good control, and as she got closer, he saw that she had a good grip, knew the proper hand placement. She swerved around a bird taking flight from a tree with quick grace, and recovered her riding position easily. Harry didn't know much about this girl, but he pegged her as a Chaser immediately.

As she descended and came down to land, she nearly drove her broom into the ground—about an inch from Harry. Her landing was perfect, meant to make him jump, but he didn't. He had seen show-offs before. When she got off the broom, she stumbled, no surprise after that landing, and she nearly fell over, regaining her feet while her hair spilled over her face.

One arm swept around, gathering the tangled mess of blond curls, and pushed it back to tumble behind her shoulders. Fetchingly pink lips parted in a smile that ignored her terrible landing, and she put out her hand.

"I'm Scarlett, you must be Mr. Potter."

"It's Harry, Ms. Dewberry."

"Likewise, Harry, as I said, I'm Scarlett."

They shook hands, then she reclaimed hers to finger-comb her hair. A second's work and suddenly the mess was just an elegant tumble of gorgeous hair. Harry was astounded by the trick. Scarlett Dewberry, he'd imagined, must get a lot of very silly comments about her name. But not if the person was _looking_ at her. She wasn't beautiful at all, her face was strong and square, but the exuberance in her posture and sparkle in her eyes, complemented by a rose-petal complexion and those beautiful blond curls, were stunning.

Harry recovered quickly. He was married to Ginny, after all. Questions of marriage aside, this girl did not hold a candle to Ginny's blazing enthusiasm for life and her spirited beauty.

"I must say, Harry, it's a real pleasure to meet you," she gushed. "I'd heard that you could have easily gotten yourself a position on a pro Quidditch team. It's astounding that you'd give up such an amazing opportunity to do police work, but—"

"I love my job immensely," Harry broke in. "Besides, you're the one who played professionally, not me. I hear you just left the Harpies last year. I guess I was expecting you to be a bit older."

"I had to retire because one of our Beaters last year decided to play without telling anyone she was on medication. She passed out cold when she was supposed to be blocking me. She landed in the grass and barely bruised, and there I was with no elbow left to speak of after the Bludger made a dirty great mess of it." Scarlett held out her arm on display, and Harry couldn't help but grimace at the way her forearm didn't really align with her upper arm properly. "I can't throw a Quaffle to save my life anymore."

"Have you had a Healer take a proper look at it?" Harry asked, frowning with curiosity over the oddly angled arm—smooth, pale, skin clear as day barring a thick scar near her wrist, and lightly corded with muscle. She was a Quidditch player, all right. "I know that they can do wonders with injuries to joints, my—"

"It's been looked at," she said impatiently. "Besides, teaching the youngsters will still allow me to do what I love, after all. I don't have to play the game to be involved in it. I was considering a job in the Department of Magical Sports and Games, but I couldn't be stuck behind a desk like that."

Harry had a hard time imagining this young woman behind a desk for five minutes, much less all day. He wondered how she had survived school. She must have begun at Hogwarts just at the time he'd left the school to hunt down Horcruxes with Ron and Hermione.

"Let's take a walk," Harry suggested, leading them on a path across the pitch to the equipment shed, a large stone building that had obviously been built as part of the castle. "I want to show you everything."

"Oh, don't worry, Harry, I've seen it," she said with assurance. "I was Hufflepuff team captain during my time at the school, so I'm pretty familiar with everything."

"Oh, good," he said. "Well, I'd better show you just exactly where everything goes in the equipment room, anyway. Draco spent most of his first year here sorting it out—you wouldn't _believe_ how unorganized Charlie Weasley was—and it's stayed that way during my time because I've been threatened with death and dismemberment if I don't keep it straight. I imagine you'll get the same treatment."

Scarlett's face looked curious, though she couldn't seem to find the words for her question.

"Yes?" Harry prompted.

"What's he like?"

"What? Who?"

"Malfoy. I've heard he's very nice and good with children and a real family man, but . . . he _did_ belong to Voldemort, once."

Harry scowled. "Why don't you find out for yourself?" he answered.

"I'm sure I will," she said, still confident she would be hired for the position. "As soon as I start teaching—"

"Or right now," Harry cut her off, giving Draco a nod as he came across the grass toward them, looking excited. He'd already given up the cane again, having only needed it for a few weeks while he was recovering from the Ran incident, but he was still limping very noticeably.

Scarlett spun around, her blue eyes wide. "Oooo, is that him?" she asked in a low voice of almost sultry excitement.

Harry rolled his eyes. Yet another woman who loved the bad-boy image. It got to be rather annoying, after a bit. How come women weren't flocking to _him_ all the time? Aurors were just as sexy as former fugitives from justice—or so Ginny repeatedly assured him. Maybe he ought to rough up a prisoner or two, get it in the morning paper. Of course, he was nearing thirty, and he had three kids and a wife. Perhaps having a sexy public image ought to be a little lower on his priority list.

"Good day," Draco called. "You must be Scarlett Dewberry."

Harry tried to tell himself he was imagining Draco's smirk over the mouthful of her name, but he knew better. Draco could get away with it.

"Please call me Scarlett," she said, suddenly demure.

"All right, Scarlett, it's a pleasure to meet you. I know Harry's the one showing you around today, but I wanted to introduce myself. I'll be the one to talk to if you need any help while you're here."

Scarlett returned the warmth with enthusiasm, and followed them both to the equipment shed, then Draco left to oversee a shipment of some sort of venom or another while Harry took Scarlett through the locker rooms to show her what he'd changed in the last couple of years.

At the end of it, Harry had to admit that Scarlett's confidence was more than just bravado. She was a competent, intelligent woman as well as an experienced Quidditch player. He supposed he ought to be concerned that she was so young—only twenty-three—but he didn't have much room to talk, and the kids listened to Greg Kilburne, roughly her same age, just fine.

Talk turned to her past Quidditch career while they were winding down, and when Harry heard the wistfulness in her voice about how much she missed playing, chivalry demanded his response.

"I know you can't play professionally anymore, but a few colleagues of mine get together for a little match every week or two, just for fun. It's mostly Ministry employees, but Draco's joined us before, and it's pretty casual. Would you like to come sometime?"

Her eyes lit up so brightly that Harry almost had to squint. She exclaimed with eagerness, flung her arms around him, and hugged him tightly, shocking him speechless.

"Thank you, Harry, that's wonderful of you! Oh, I'd love to!"

After she'd gone, Draco reemerged from the castle while Harry was meandering out of the wards to Apparate home, and followed him down the lane toward Hogsmeade.

"That woman is in love with you," he observed.

"What?"

"She just hugged you, or didn't you notice? _Harry_," he said mockingly, fluttering his eyelashes as best he could.

"I did, actually. You're the one she was getting all gushy about!"

Draco shrugged. "Maybe she's just exuberant, then."

"Yeah," Harry grunted, kicking a rock. Maybe he ought to rethink this invitation. Maybe he could pretend to break his leg at work so he couldn't go. No, they'd expect him to be ready if it was just a broken leg. Damn. Well, he'd think of something.

-o-o-o-

"Who's coming today?" Ginny asked, toweling her hair dry after her shower. She peeked out from under the towel, standing bent half-over, when Harry didn't answer. "Harry."

"Huh?" he responded, still looking at his profile in the mirror.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You're still looking very trim, darling," she said. "I wouldn't worry about love handles just yet."

Harry made a face at her, and pulled his shirt on. He smiled when he watched her start combing her hair back into a tight ponytail for the game. She had such beautiful red hair, even more beautiful by candlelight . . . well. That was last night, and this was today. They had a Quidditch match to prepare for.

"So," she said loudly, "who's coming today?"

Harry squinted thoughtfully. "The usual crowd. Fritz is going to come, I think. Bartles, from the Internal Affairs office. And I invited the new Quidditch coach at Hogwarts."

"That Newberry girl?"

"Dewberry," he corrected. "Yes, her. She's thrilled, by the way."

"After spending all this time without being able to play, I can imagine," Ginny answered, and turned around. "There, how do I look?"

"Like my one and only Sunshine," he answered, and gave her a kiss. He took his time. Granted, he had limited experience with women, but he was pretty sure no one tasted as good as Ginny did.

They Apparated to the farm owned by Muggle Relations employee Paul Whickers. They played Quidditch above his cow pasture and tried really hard not to fall off their brooms. Of course, nothing had been funnier than the day Brandy had fallen. She'd missed all the cow patties by a happy miracle, but the look of surprise on the cow's face had been unforgettable.

"Hey, Ginny," Harry said slowly. He was just now coming to the realization that Ginny, as their best Chaser, and Scarlett, undoubtedly as good, would be put on opposing teams. This seemed like a recipe for trouble, if Draco was right about her. "Want to do something different?"

"What?"

"I don't see Chester. Play Seeker?"

"You want me to play opposite you?" she confirmed.

Harry nodded, smiling brightly. She squinted as if she saw through him, then grinned.

"This should be fun."

Ginny greeted Miss Dewberry coolly, as if she was already aware of the situation, but more likely because she was feeling a pang of regret for never having the opportunity to join the Harpies herself. As usual, they didn't have enough interested people for a full game. There were only two Chasers and one Beater per side. Since Chester wasn't there to play Seeker and Ginny filled in the role, it opened up a space for Scarlett to play. She was obviously in her element as they mounted their brooms and got underway. She was swooping around the other players with ease, coming up with silly taunts, and basically inserting herself into their routine smoothly. Ginny was just as good as Scarlett was, Harry noticed, so it wasn't throwing anyone off to have a professional-level player around. Still, Scarlett was having to push herself. She couldn't throw the Quaffle like she used to, so she had to outmaneuver everyone to get herself closer to the "goal hoop," a ring of light Mrs. Whickers maintained during their play. He found himself watching Ginny, comparing her movements to Scarlett's, and realizing that Ginny could have gone pro so easily. He felt really, really guilty. It was him, and Matt, that had made it so she couldn't.

"Hey, Potter!" Ginny shouted from halfway across the pasture. "I know you're distracted by your attraction to the opposite team—" she struck a slightly suggestive pose to indicate herself "—but as a Seeker, your job is to look for the Snitch!"

"It is?" he called out in mock surprise. "Merlin! All this time I thought it just provided me a better view of the other team's Seeker!" He forced away his melancholy. They'd dealt with this issue already, and Ginny was happy with the life they had.

"I always knew there was something between you and that Seeker Cedric Diggory!" she shouted.

"Nothing between us but my attraction to women!"

"Women, you say?"

"Well, a woman," he conceded, wiggling his eyebrows at her. He'd sort of forgotten about the rest of the team, but he heard Kyle groan when Scarlett got past him.

"Damn, woman!" he said in frustration. "Stop _moving_!"

Scarlett retorted, but Harry had been reminded of the match they were playing, and his attentions were refocused on actually playing Seeker and finding the Snitch. He knew Scarlett must have overheard him outrageously flirting with his wife, as they often tended to do during the games, so he hoped that had solved the problem entirely.

He was swooping low to look at something shiny when he heard Ginny shout,

"Potter!"

He grinned without taking his eyes off his course for a second. She was always like this when they played.

"Yeah, Potter?" he responded.

"I thought you were busy viewing the other Seeker!" she growled in frustration, blazing alongside him. So, he was right, the shiny thing was the Snitch, and he'd seen it first. She was trying to distract him because she hadn't seen it in time. He put on an extra burst of speed, then the Snitch took an abrupt turn upward. He cursed, watching Ginny, still above him, correct herself much more quickly than he did. He shot up with desperate speed, nearly giving himself whiplash, but Ginny was way ahead of him.

"Got ya!" she crowed in triumph, stretching out her hand. Then the Snitch darted sideways, right around Scarlett Dewberry, whom Ginny smacked into so hard they made an audible thunking noise. They both cried out in pain and fell from their brooms, landing on the ground while the rest of the players gasped and tried to catch them. Harry had been only a second behind his wife, and narrowly avoided the same collision. He quickly joined them on the ground.

"Are you all right?" he asked anxiously.

"Fine," Scarlett answered first, a little grin on her face. "God, I haven't played a rough game in ages!"

"I'm not," Ginny answered sourly. She made no move to take the hand Harry was extending toward her. Fritz was helping Scarlett up, even though she was looking at Harry as though expecting his assistance. Harry had grabbed Ginny's broom, and he set their two brooms down gently, kneeling beside her.

"What's wrong?" he asked, reaching into his hip holster for his wand.

She waved her hand at the wand, dismissing it. "I can't get up."

"Ginny, what happened?" he asked in a breathless voice.

She grimaced. "I don't _want_ to get up, I mean."

"You— oh," Harry said, and a smile crept over his face. "_Oh_."

"Don't you dare enjoy this, Harry," Ginny said in warning, her face dark and scowling.

"I can't help it, Sunshine," he nearly giggled. "I got the Snitch—" he showed her the ball he'd grabbed on his way down to check on her, making her scowl even deeper "—and you got _shit_."

"Thank you for summing it up so nicely," she snapped. "I want to go home now."

"Oh, Ginny, no one will blame you," he said, really giggling now. "Falling off your broom can be really scary. They'll understand if, in your moment of panic, you lost control of—"

Ginny had scooted herself several inches to the right while he was talking, revealing that she had indeed landed squarely on a cow patty. When he started laughing, she grabbed him firmly by the neck, and with a sudden and sharp movement, yanked his head down as hard as she could. Completely surprised, Harry flung himself forward to avoid face-planting in it. Instead, he slid nearly a foot in it and smeared it down his shirt all the way to his waist.

"Ginny!" he hollered, jumping up.

She was clambering to her feet, too. "Teach you to laugh!" she said austerely.

The incongruity of her haughty attitude while she had cow poop all over her butt was too much, and Harry just started to laugh again. At least, until he turned around, and sucked in a deep breath.

"Greg! When did you get here?"

"Just now," Greg Kilburne answered, clearly enjoying the entertainment. He had linked his arm with Scarlett's, and she leaned into his side comfortably.

"Scarlett, I didn't know you and Greg . . ."

"Of course," she said brightly. "Didn't I tell you? I moved to Hogsmeade so I could be closer to him. He only thought to tell me about the new position opening up at the school a few weeks ago, the silly boy." She leaned over to peck him lightly on the cheek. Unembarrassed by the affection, Greg just smiled.

"Looks like you had a good game," he commented casually.

"Right up to the part where my husband won while I was still falling through the air," Ginny said, punching Harry lightly on the arm. "You all really must excuse us. I'm going home to burn my clothing and stay in the shower for three days."

"Likewise," Harry said, lifting a hand in farewell. "Fritz, see you Monday."

"Bye, Harry, bye Ginny," everyone chorused.

"Why did Brandy get to be the one to fall on the damned cow?" Ginny grumbled as she waved goodbye.

-o-o-o-

"Hey, Draco."

"Yeah?" Draco asked, not looking up from the chess game he was playing with Ran. The women were in the kitchen. Harry was just watching the game.

"You know that Greg and Scarlett just got engaged, right?"

"Greg might have mentioned it today when I talked to him."

"So that whole Scarlett-being-in-love-with-me thing . . ."

"I guess it was just exuberance, then," he murmured, moving a piece so slowly that Ran rolled his eyes and huffed impatiently.

"Oh, you think?" Harry said irritably.

"Well, it _might_ have been flirting. It's hard to tell, sometimes."

"Draco?"

"Yes?" he said, finally looking up.

"You're a bloody idiot."

"I know," he replied, grinning. "But you love me anyway."

"Hmph," Harry answered. That was really all he could say.


	2. A Firecall

A Firecall

_For Dark Kizuna:_

_I think Landon is pretty cool, too . . . he knows friendship should never be taken lightly_

Landon scratched his hand through his hair, knowing it needed a trim and not really caring that much. His eyes were focused on his chemistry homework. It was only two days until their final exams before winter break, and he had a lot of studying to do. The academics had slipped quite a bit this summer, what with the Red-Hot problem, the getting beaten half to death, the finding out his former best friend had only _faked_ his suicide . . . god, it had been a rotten summer. He'd been spending a lot of time on his website designing, so he was still a little behind, and now he only had two days to get it together. Luckily, Stace was too freaking responsible to let his grades slip, even though his summer had been crazy, too. Not even constant soccer practices and games got in his way.

"Hey, how do you do the conversion for number thirty-two?" Landon asked Stace, who was hunched over his calculus textbook. "Hey, Stace." Rolling his eyes, Landon threw his pencil at him.

Stace looked up in surprise. "What was that for?"

"Nothing, you're an idiot. How do you do the conversion for number thirty-two?"

Stace sighed and put on a why-me? face. "You look at the instructions on the side of the page right next to the problems," he said, and looked down again.

Landon glanced at his textbook. "Oh. Right. Hey, give me my pencil back." Stace ignored him. "Stace, pencil." The pencil beaned him in the forehead. "Ow!"

"Well, for God's sake, I have homework, too, you know."

Five minutes later, Stace sighed dramatically and threw his calculus book halfway across the room. "I hate you," he called after it.

Landon gave him a puzzled look.

"Never mind," Stace said, crossing his arms. "I don't think I've gotten a problem done in like, ten minutes."

Landon looked down at number thirty-two, erased, re-erased, and written again enough times that the paper was almost worn through.

"We're supposed to be the smartest kids in the state, aren't we?"

Stace snorted. "That's what they keep telling me."

"Maybe we're _too_ smart," Landon suggested. "This is so beneath our amazing brain power that it bores us."

Stace pushed up an imaginary pair of glasses and sniffed, "so in conclusion, I believe we can assume the hyperparticle continuum—"

"The _what_?"

"Nothing, you're just such a geek."

"Geek?"

"You're a computer nerd, anyway."

"And you're a lazy ass who isn't doing his homework."

Stace shrugged. "Neither are you."

"I know, and we'll never get into college if we fail to turn in a complete textbook assignment that we have three of every week," Landon said in a falsetto, fake-panicked voice.

Stace grimaced. "You sound like _Autumn_."

"You think?"

"How's she, anyway?"

"How should I know?"

"Aren't you dating her?"

"You're kidding, right? I broke up with the bitch months ago when she switched schools."

"You did? Why?"

"Um, you did, too, remember?"

"Yeah."

"So you probably remember that for all her supposed intelligence, she's got enough empty space in her head to play tennis?"

Stace shrugged, and then he grinned slyly. "Great ass, though."

Landon chuckled. "Her tits were better."

"This is true."

"Still, mostly useless."

"She's going to turn into her mother someday."

"Scary, isn't it?"

"Her mom never did drugs, though," Stace said thoughtfully. "Her mom had a pretty nice—"

"Shut up now, Stace, or I swear I'll . . . do something very bad."

"I'm shaking. Please don't hurt me."

Landon made a disgusted face.

"Hey," Stace said, as if something were suddenly occurring to him, "what _are_ you doing for college, anyway?"

"Where did that come from?"

"Your Autumn impersonation."

"Oh. I'm going to a technical school. What else?"

"Which one?"

"Haven't picked, yet. You?"

"I'm seeing who'll give me the best scholarship. Hopefully a soccer scholarship."

"Wait, don't tell me. You're majoring in international business?"

Stace grimaced. "I'm kind of starting to get over the dad-clone thing. I might do justice studies. Maybe even go to law school."

"You want to be a lawyer?"

"I don't know," Stace sighed irritably. "Every time I think about college, I wonder what kind of stuff I could do, you know, magically. Working for _their_ state department."

"Oh, right," Landon said uncomfortably.

Stace gave him a slightly disgusted look. "Dude, you watched us save Edward's life a few months ago. You _still_ don't like magic?"

"I don't _not_ like it," Landon tried to protest, but when Stace withdrew his wand and starting conjuring up little tongues of fire around him, he jumped out of his chair and retreated a couple of steps. "Knock that shit off, Stace," he snapped.

Stace shrugged and put the wand away. "I figured you'd at least feel pretty superior about being allowed to keep your memories of everything. You, me, and Edward are the only ones at the whole school who even know what Red-Hot was, now."

"And the principal," Landon added. "God, Stace, think about it for a second. Those guys came in and _wiped memories_. That is scary shit."

Stace frowned. "I guess. But you can put the memories back, you know. My tutor told me there's a way to break that enchantment, if you have to. I don't think he knows how, though. You have to be pretty good."

"I just don't like the idea of having someone mess with my mind."

"Well, we don't, unless we have to. Don't you think these guys are better off not remembering? Besides, you have to be good at it to do it right. I couldn't do it, at least not yet."

"Shawn could," Landon said, and then he suddenly was very much done with this conversation and picked up his chemistry book again. Shawn could, and that had scared Landon. Shawn could, and he'd gotten himself in a ton of trouble because the only person he'd found to help him was a couple of demented criminals.

Still, it was Adam and Garrett that had ended up in juvie, not Shawn. And while he and Stace might miss Adam, it was the kid's own damn fault for getting involved in something that stupid. Shawn, though . . . what choice had he really had? Landon was really glad those two wizards, whatever their real names were, had taken Shawn with them, even if it meant he'd never had a chance to talk to him. It was better than sitting in there with Adam. They'd been really lenient on Flip, too, for some reason. She had to go to therapy, but she'd been going to that for years already. Her parents got divorced over it, though, or something weird like that. Flip hadn't really explained before she and her mom had moved away.

Stace was disgruntled about the forced return to his studies. "What?" he asked Landon of his sudden return to silence.

"I dunno," he mumbled. "I kind of miss Shawn, that's all." He could see in Stace's eyes the big question—_why in hell would you miss that delinquent?_—and the answers were all there at the tip of his tongue. _The camaderie thing is nice, Stace, but you still have no clue what my life was like before I moved here. You're fun to hang out with, Stace, but you're still a preppy bastard. You're a wizard, Stace, but I was already told what I needed to know about magic. You're okay, Stace, but you're just not Shawn, all right?_ All Landon actually said was, "You never really knew him, but he was pretty cool."

Stace accepted that, and got an expression on his face that was reminiscent of painful constipation. "I kind of need to apologize to you. For coming between you guys, I mean. Last time I tried to, you were all doped up in the hospital, so I don't think you remember. Anyway, I feel really bad about it. You're right, I never knew Shawn, and it's because I was acting like a dick. I'm sorry that Adam and I isolated you guys so much. I probably made you feel like you have to, but you don't have to justify it to me. If he was your friend, then you had a reason for it, and that's fine."

Landon stared at him and wondered when the boy had gone all girly on him. Still, at least he'd said it. Landon wasn't about to try to judge if he meant it or not, because the acknowledgement was good enough. "Thanks, Stace. Now shut up with the mushy crap and tell me how to do number forty."

-o-o-o-

A week later, the pain of missing Shawn still wasn't letting up. Landon and Stace hung out with Edward and Kendall—which of course made the rest of the school wonder when _those_ four got to be friends—but it wasn't the same. They were friends to hang out with, but not to talk to. Not that you could spend every day with and not be completely fed up with them. Not that totally got you and the way you thought about things. And then Landon was disgusted with himself. The kid had moved to another country, not a freaking separate planet. What was preventing him from calling Shawn and trying to talk to him, other than his own cowardice? And Landon didn't like to think of himself as a coward. So he decided to call Shawn and push the confrontation they'd been needing to have since he'd disappeared a year and a half ago. The only problem was being a little unsure of how to do it. From what Stace told him, Shawn had moved to a place that didn't have telephones. The person who would know how to contact him was the guy who'd invited those undercover wizards over—Peter, Landon remembered. This presented the problem of needing to know how to contact Peter, then he remembered that Edward talked to him sometimes, so that was simple enough.

When they were sitting in the hallway outside the classroom for their final exam before break, Landon threw a wadded-up piece of paper down the row of students at Edward, whose head was bent over his book. It hit him on the arm, but Edward didn't even look up.

_He's used to it_, Landon thought, and felt slightly guilty even though he'd never acted like that. Some kids just thought they were funny.

"Hey, Pat, nudge Edward for me."

Pat did, and Edward looked up in surprise. Pat nodded at Landon.

"I need to talk to that Peter guy." He eyes the row of listening students and said cautiously, "Do you have his phone number?" but he said it while making a face to indicate that he knew Peter didn't have a phone number.

Edward nodded agreeably.

"After the test?"

Edward nodded again, and they went back to their last-minute cramming. Once the test was over (everyone feeling good about it, since they were all bright students), Landon caught up with the other boy, who was prepared with a note.

_My mom has the fireplace set up for calls at our house so she can talk to her sister. You can use it to call Peter._

Landon had no idea why he would being using a fireplace to make a phone call, but he was afraid to ask.

"Is that how you usually talk to him?"

Edward shook his hand, smiling sarcastically, and handed over another note. _Peter doesn't know sign language. I just write to him._

"Oh," Landon muttered, feeling stupid. "Yeah."

With another sarcastic smile, his eyes glinting with mischief, Edward wrote, _And I use an owl to deliver the letters._

Landon rolled his eyes. An owl. Of course. What else?

_You'll probably have to leave a message at his office or something. Why do you need to talk to him?_

"Oh, I just . . . need to ask him how to call Shawn."

Surprised, Edward quickly scribbled, _You can just call Shawn from my house, you don't have to talk to Peter for that._

"You know how to call Shawn?"

_I know how to call Harry's office, and Harry will make sure you can get in touch with him. Are you coming over now?_

"Oh," Landon said, feeling a little off-guard, "No. Not today. Later. Thanks, though."

So much for bravery.

-o-o-o-

"So, um, do you guys have a winter break?" Landon asked. This was incredibly awkward. He had his head stuck in the Cavanaugh's fireplace, and Edward's mother wouldn't stop shoving cookies at him.

"We have one right now," Shawn replied, not looking a lot more comfortable than Landon was, even though he apparently didn't have to stick his head into anybody's chimney to talk. He was sitting on the floor in front of the fire, in a big room made of stone. There were tons of pictures on the walls behind him, and unless Landon was going crazy, the pictures were moving. "But I'm staying at the school until me and Hagrid leave to go visit his brother."

"Who's Hagrid?"

"He's the guy I kind of work for. He's huge, he says his mom was a giant, but he's pretty cool. He takes care of the animals and the school grounds, and I help him out whenever I'm not in class."

"Where's he?"

"He's out feeding the baby thestrals."

"The what?"

"They're called thestrals. They are so cool. They're like these giant horse skeletons that fly. I know it sounds like some lame creature somebody made up for EverQuest or something, but they're seriously not that bad. Harry said he and his friends flew all the way to London on some thestrals once."

Landon was curious about Shawn's enthusiasm for all this. He'd expected to find him with his usual chip on his shoulder the size of a two-by-four, but he almost seemed happy.

"Shawn . . . did you find out anything about your mom?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to. I know about where she lived and went to school now, and I really don't want to know what was so bad that she couldn't hang onto me. You know what I mean?"

Landon didn't have the luxury. He was well aware of what had been so bad for his parents, and his dad was still in jail for it. He changed the subject back to Shawn's school quickly.

"So do you live in the school with the other students, or do you live with the Hagrid guy?"

"I was living in Hagrid's hut for a couple of months, but I moved into a room with some other kids. Apollo and Niles are our age, but Niles' brother Gilbert is only fourteen. He has to stay with his brother because he has some problems. He's pretty cool, he just gets these weird attacks of paranoia and won't let anybody talk to him sometimes."

"Dude, that's past weird and into crazy. You know that, right?"

"Well, yeah, but he's not dangerous or anything. He's better off than the other kid who had that happen to him, that one just starts screaming and doesn't stop for like, half an hour. I don't know why it's just those two, though. The other two are fine, Barry and that girl Letty."

"What happened to them?"

"Oh, there was this kid here a couple of years ago that cursed them. It was pretty hardcore. Like something John would have thought up. They were stuck inside their own nightmares for months and couldn't wake up. Anyway, like I said, Gilbert's okay, he's just touchy sometimes. And I get to work on Potions stuff with Niles, he's really good at it, too. I think they told him to keep an eye on me so I don't do anything terrible, but we just experiment with different stuff."

"Not opiates, though," Landon said, trying to reassure himself.

Shawn glared at him, crossing his arms over his chest. "No. Anyway, it's better than sleeping in the hut being smothered by Spike and listening to Hagrid snore."

Landon felt bad for making the jab. Shawn was making a real and honest effort to fit in over there, and he shouldn't be getting all upset just because it was working. Shawn deserved to have some other friends. But he'd seen something when Shawn crossed his arms. Something he hadn't really wanted to see on Shawn ever again.

Landon had been lucky. He'd never been abused while getting tossed around the system, only left out in the cold a few times. But Shawn had. And one day when they'd both been just drunk enough to talk without feeling weird about it, Shawn had explained himself. He'd grown up thinking that pain was the answer for everything. Every time you did something wrong, there was pain. Every time you talked too much, there was pain. Every time you didn't stand up straight and be respectful, there was pain. After a while, you didn't grasp the concept of a world that didn't have pain like that. Coming to Vince and Marybeth hadn't been a dream come true for him, it had just been really confusing. If there was no pain coming from them, he needed to invent it. And once you got started, you just kept wanting to go deeper until you ended everything and all your problems leaked out through the opened veins . . .

"You said you wouldn't do that anymore," Landon said sharply.

"What?"

"You know what. I told you you were wrong about all of that. You said you'd stop. You _did_ stop."

Shawn glanced down at his wrists, and crossed his arms tighter. "So what?"

"Let me see it."

"Why?"

Landon's neck was aching, and he was pissed off. "Because you're still my best friend! Show me!"

Shawn tried to play it off like an act. He held out his arms with an exaggerated sigh and rolled his eyes.

"Damn, Shawn. What have you done to yourself?"

"What? We've already talked about this, I remember. I wasn't _that_ drunk."

"No, I just . . . were you _actually_ trying to kill yourself?"

"No," Shawn said, the word "yes" written all over him.

"Shit. Seriously?"

"It wasn't that big of a deal or anything, I just—"

"What else have you done?"

"Nothing."

"You're lying."

"I took some of Professor Malfoy's poison once."

"You seriously poisoned yourself?"

"The man sure knows how to whip up an antidote."

"What else?"

"Nothing."

"You're still lying."

"Nothing, Landon. God, what do you care? You're not even here."

"Not yet," Landon said grimly. "But I'm coming. Let me talk to Harry for a minute."

"Forget it."

"You think I'm just going to let you get away with that kind of shit? For god's sake, you were just telling me about how good everything is going over there."

Shawn just shrugged. "Whatever. It's fine."

"Are you listening to yourself? It's not fine, stupid! What did I say? Huh? I said, if you ever get to the point where you think you need to end it, you come talk to me. You promised you would!"

"Yeah, I did!" Shawn said, jumping to his feet and looming tall over Landon. "Then you crapped out on me!"

"Well, sorry if I was a little freaked out for a couple of days over the whole mind-control thing! You were the one who went and left a suicide note on the day I tried to come over and apologize!"

"You think you can— You did?"

"Yes, you retard. I did. Look, I know neither of us had a ton of experience with sticking things out, but we said if we were going to be friends, it wasn't going to be like that. We were done letting people pass us off to someone else, remember?"

"I figured that didn't cover me being a wizard."

"Well, it does," Landon said firmly. "It was supposed to cover everything."

"Didn't really work out, though. I mean, since I'm in England on some kind of probation, and you're at home still playing the goody two shoes."

"Who says it didn't work out? We're talking, aren't we?"

"I'm not going to stop being a wizard, Landon."

"I didn't say you had to. I don't even mind magic so much anymore."

"Uh-huh," Shawn said dryly.

Landon's neck was screaming for him to stop being ridiculous, he had ashes in his hair, and these people didn't understand the concept of telephones.

"I mean, this firecall stuff is pretty cool, anyway."


	3. An Evening at Home

An Evening at Home

_For Noontide:_

_You're right, Ran's pretty awesome, especially when it comes to his family_

Draco and Vianne curled up on the couch in front of the fire, murmuring quiet comments to one another, sipping a glass of wine between them, and just enjoying their evening. Draco had just finished administering the year's final exams, and he had to be back at the school first thing in the morning to be sure the Gryffindors were packed and safely on the Hogwarts Express. It was really too warm out for a fire, but it was so atmospheric.

Scorpius was playing in a playpen far enough from the fire to be safe. He was happily burbling to himself and chewing on a toy unicorn. He was an absurd sight, with half his white-blond hair sticking out in a tuft and the other half matted down by the drool he'd somehow smeared across the side of his head. Draco and Vianne agreed there was nothing more beautiful.

"His big brother will be here tomorrow," Vianne said.

Draco didn't say anything. He kept looking into the fire, seeming pensive.

"What is it, _amour_?"

"You realize Ran has still never voluntarily picked the baby up."

"Yes," she said, frowning at the reminder. "Have you asked him about it?"

"No. I know what the problem is."

"You do?"

"Uh-huh," Draco sighed, leaning his cheek against her head, where it rested against his shoulder. "It's what happened last summer."

"You mean when he attacked you in America?"

"Yes. I think he's afraid that he'll hurt Scorpius."

"But he's not even . . ." Vianne trailed off, finding it unnecessary to finish the thought. "My son can be really stupid sometimes, have you noticed?"

"I did," Draco said calmly, but with a smile of mischief. "How are we going to do this, then?"

"Do what?"

"Force him to spend time with Scorpius," he said with mock dismay. "Come now, love, I thought you were devious!"

"No, that's your job," she said comfortably, snuggling into his side tighter, and smiling when Scorpius let out a little hooting noise when he dropped his toy. "Did you have anything in mind?"

-o-o-o-

"There's my baby," Vianne said proudly, holding out her arms and pulling Ran into them. Draco had ridden the train back with him so he could Apparate them back to Malfoy Manor, and Mum greeted them in the grand foyer that was a lot less depressing than it had been a year ago. "How were your exams?"

"Hi, Mum. They were good," Ran said. He squeezed her and lifted her up off the ground, making her whoop in surprise when he spun her around and handed her off to Draco. "I think this is yours," he told his stepfather gravely.

Draco grinned and grabbed hold of her. "Why, yes, I believe it is. Thank you."

"I do _not_ belong to you, Draco Malfoy," Vianne said, her voice muffled because her face was pressed into his chest. "And you don't want to start your summer off in trouble, young man," she addressed Ran.

Ran just grinned and grabbed hold of his trunk. "I'll go unpack," he said.

"Now, hold on," Vianne said, planting her hands on her (astoundingly thin after two children) hips. "Come say hello to your brother first."

Ran knew his smile had slipped, but he plastered one back on and followed his mother to the room that had been hastily converted into a nursery and playroom when they were finishing up the renovations last summer. The chubby baby with silky hair that was nearly white looked up from the playpen when he saw them, and squealed with delight at seeing his mother. She reached in and picked him up, and looked like she would hand him over to Ran, but Ran had prepared for this by bringing his luggage, and gripped the handle of his trunk tightly as an excuse.

"Hello, there, Scorpius," he said to the baby carefully. "You're getting very fat, I see."

The beaming little face quickly twisted and reddened as he let loose a cry that made Ran take a step back.

"I don't think he likes me, Mum," he said nervously.

"Nonsense," she asserted, and stepped over closer while cradling Scorpius to soothe his tears. "You two need to get to know each other in a hurry, after all. Draco and I are going out with your grandparents tomorrow evening, and you'll be watching him for a few hours."

"What?" Ran blurted out, taking another step back. "I can't watch a baby!"

"Why not?"

"I don't know how!"

"You're going to learn," Draco said from behind him. "You have until tomorrow night. It's not that complicated, really." Draco's horribly scarred face wrinkled up with an expression of distaste. "Phew. You can start by learning how to change a diaper. Let me have him, love," he said, and took him from Vianne. "Come on, Ran, let me show you what to do."

Ran backed up another step. "Dad, you're kidding, right? Me, change a diaper?"

"What, you'll be having kids someday, won't you? Your wife will be very impressed if you already know this stuff."

"My what?"

But it was useless to argue. He and Draco disagreed so rarely that it was stupid to pick a fight over changing a diaper. Ran just didn't count on being forced to do the changing right _then_.

-o-o-o-

"All right; you know to call Harry and Ginny if you need anything," Draco said, draping a shawl over Vianne's shoulders.

"Check," said Ran, feeling his heart thumping with nervousness.

"And you know where his bottle is for right before you put him to bed."

"Check."

"You remember how to lay him down?"

"Check. Draco?"

"Yes?"

"Just . . . don't stay out all night, okay?"

Mum laughed at that and turned around with her shawl draped just so. "Baby, don't worry so much. You boys will do fine. Now say goodnight," she said, bending down to drop a kiss on Scorpius' cheek.

"See you, little fellow," Draco added, also kissing the baby.

Ran rolled his eyes. His family had become sort of disgusting with this baby. Of course, his mother and stepfather had always been really sappy with each other, he should have expected that adding a baby was going to melt them down to a puddle of goo.

"We'll see you later tonight, Ran," Draco said, patting him on the shoulder. "Don't burn the house down, all right?"

"What, didn't you get anti-inflammatory charms on everything?"

"Ran, behave," his mother said, but she smiled. "Bye, darling."

"Tell Nana and Grandpa hello."

"We will."

"Bye."

Then, suddenly, Ran was alone with the baby. He turned around and eyed the child cautiously. Scorpius had smeared some of his meal in his hair, so they'd had to wash it. Now that it was clean, the fine baby fluff was sort of floating around his head like a halo. He was playing with a toy dragon and making weird noises. Ran wasn't sure, but he didn't think most babies were so happy all the time, or liked to play by themselves so much. The kid couldn't even stand up yet, of course, so how much playing he could really do was sort of an issue.

"This was a bad idea," he informed the baby solemnly. "I'm going to do something wrong, probably. Just don't hold it against me when you're old enough to retaliate, okay?"

Scorpius looked up at him, blinked solemnly, and trembled on the edge of tears when he realized that he and Ran were alone, no parents in sight.

"Look, don't cry or anything," Ran said nervously. "I don't know what to do if you cry, so just don't."

Then he went over to the couch and sat down, picking up the book he'd left there earlier. He wished he was doing something a little more exciting. Merlin, how had he gotten talked into spending his first full day at home learning about babies?

Ran had the best of intentions, meaning to look up and make sure the baby wasn't choking to death every few minutes. But Scorpius continued to entertain himself, and Ran got engrossed in the autobiography of a wizard who had been a member of the Knights Templar. A good half an hour passed in near silence, broken only by the sound of pages turning and Scorpius blowing spit bubbles. Then someone cleared their throat.

"Erm, hello?"

Ran jumped and Scorpius abruptly stopped making noise.

"Hello?" he called out, mystified.

Then the head of his housemate appeared in the fire. "Oh, hey."

"Erm, hi, Quinn. Gosh, it's almost like I talked to you yesterday . . ."

"Oh, shut up, Edwards. I just wanted to tell you I accidentally packed some of your robes. You want me to bring them over sometime?"

"If you like," Ran said with a shrug. "I don't need them until autumn."

"Well, I could hang onto them until we get back to school."

"Fine by me. You know I hate robes."

Quinn grinned, then his eyes drifted over to the playpen.

"Is that your brother?"

He and Scorpius stared at each other.

"I'm babysitting," Ran said glumly.

"By yourself?" Quinn asked with alarm.

"Yeah," Ran sighed.

"Oh. Well, luck to you," Quinn said hastily. "I've . . . uh, got things to take care of at home, myself. I'll write you about seeing each other this summer, eh?"

"Yeah, cheers," Ran sighed, and his friend disappeared.

Scorpius said, "Bah!"

Ran made a face at him. "See there? It's not just me you scare out of their wits."

The baby started crying. Ran sighed.

"I knew this would happen," he muttered. He stared at Scorpius. "What do you want? I know you're wearing a clean diaper, I know you're not hungry, and I don't know what else babies want. So stop it!"

Scorpius did not, in fact, stop it. Ran sighed again, and entrenched himself in the couch, putting his book up in front of his face.

"I'm not touching you, so get used to it," he said severely.

The wails continued, but Ran was quickly distracted by yet another head in the fireplace. This one, though, was not a person he recognized. It seemed to be some kind of magical recording, in fact. The person's face was muted and their voice was remote.

"A Muggle has called the Ministry in an attempt to reach Mr. and Mrs. Draco Malfoy. After consideration of the request, instructions were given to this person on how to reach the home. Remove your wards for this visitor at your own discretion."

The face blinked out of existence.

"So . . . someone's coming," Ran said slowly. "That was strange."

Scorpius was still crying. It was starting to really, really, get on Ran's nerves.

"Just stop!" he shouted. "There's nothing wrong with you, and I'm not touching you, so stop!"

Scorpius looked at him pitifully while he wailed with abandon.

"What do you want? I'm going to _break_ you or something! You're not old enough yet to understand what I could do to you!"

The knocker on the front door pounded on the wood with a reverberating hollow clunking noise. Ran looked from the door to the hall, back to the crying baby, and then to the hall again. He cursed.

"I can't just _leave_ you in here while you're _crying_, can I?" he huffed, and picked Scorpius up, trying to remember what Mum and Draco had shown him about holding a baby the proper way. "Now hold still and be quiet while I see who it is."

Ran had been instructed on how to temporarily disable the wards on the Manor and how to put them back up. He looked out through the peephole. He froze, staring out into the darkness on the front entrance at the man standing in front of the door.

"What the hell?" he asked Scorpius, knowing that his face was turning white and that his hands were suddenly sweaty. The baby had stopped crying, and looked up at him curiously. Ran reached out to open the door, and saw that his hand was shaking ever so slightly. He yanked the door open. "What do you want?" he demanded.

"Are you Mr. Malfoy?" the man asked hesitantly, taking a step back. Ran was easily six inches taller than he was. His eyes lit on the baby. "Oh god, I didn't know there was a kid," he muttered. "That's Vianne's baby? I . . . um, I just wanted to talk to Vianne for a minute."

"I'm not Mr. Malfoy," Ran said bluntly.

The man's eyes widened even further. "Oh, shit. Ran?"

"Yes."

"You've uh . . . you've grown up." His eyes fell on the baby again. "Is that kid _yours_?"

"He's _my_ brother," Ran replied, shifting his arms around Scorpius carefully, feeling tension screaming in every muscle in his body. "So, yes, he's Vianne's baby. The baby she had with Mr. Malfoy, my stepfather. And no, you won't be speaking to her."

"Please, Ran, just for a minute, I know she's married now but I just want to apologize—"

"Apologize?" Ran repeated scornfully. "No. You stay away from her."

"Vianne!" the man shouted, looking past Ran into the house. "Vianne, it's Trent! Please, come talk to me!"

"She's not here!" Ran exploded, taking a step out into the pleasant night air that was nearly crackling with tension now. "So get lost, _Trent_!"

"Don't call me that, I'm your father," he replied.

"Since when? I said leave."

"Listen here, son, you can't speak to me—"

"If you walk out on your family, you lose the right to their respect, you ignorant little bastard," Ran interrupted. "I don't like you, I don't care about you, and I swear that if you ever come to my house and try to talk to my mother again, I will kill you."

"Don't say things like that," Trent said, his face going pale.

"Why? You're not _afraid_ of me, are you?"

"No, I just . . . don't think you should threaten—"

"Don't make the mistake of thinking I don't mean it, Trent. You caught me by surprise, here, but I don't usually say things I don't mean. I don't want to see you anywhere near here, or anywhere else. I simply don't want to see you at all. We have a family in this house, and you're not part of it. You decided you didn't want to be. My mother is very much in love, I have a father I love and respect, and now I have a little brother to look after."

"But Ran—"

"Don't even talk to me, you understand? It's very simple. Just crawl back in whatever hole you came from, and stay there until you die. If you ever leave the hole, I'll see to it myself that you die. Is all that very clear to you?"

Trent was too astounded to answer. He'd been expecting to see Vianne, assuming she'd still be the pushover she'd been when she was twenty, and instead he got an enraged sixteen-year-old who'd obviously moved on.

"Good, glad you've got that. Now, so sorry, but as you can see, I'm a little busy with the baby here."

"Will you at least tell Vianne I'm sorry?"

"No," Ran said shortly.

"I just—"

"Get out of here."

To make his point perfectly clear, because perhaps a man as stupid as Trent didn't quite get it yet, Ran bared his teeth and growled. Trent let out a frightened yelp and backed down the stairs. Ran lifted his head and howled as best he could without being transformed. Trent took off running down the hedgerow and got out of sight as fast as his legs could carry him. Ran stared after him a minute, breath heaving with his anger, then he looked down at Scorpius, still sitting patiently in his arms and waiting.

"Bah!" said the baby.

Ran started laughing. "I can't believe I just did that," he gasped, retreating back into the house and shutting the door with his foot. "I just . . . whoa. That felt really, really good."

"Bah!"

He reinstated the wards, still laughing. "I just howled at my stupid dad."

"Bah, bah, bah, bah," Scorpius chanted happily, in a much better mood now that Ran was not scowling at him.

Ran wrinkled up his nose. "Gross. When did you _poop_?"

"Ungh."

Ran chuckled again. "Maybe you're the one that got rid of him, then. Come on, I'll change you. I guess it's about time for you to have a bottle and go to sleep, anyway, isn't it?"  
While Scorpius, perfectly content with his clean diaper, sucked at the bottle Ran was holding for him, Ran talked to him.

"I guess I was just afraid I'd hurt you or something. I mean, I am a werewolf. I'm always afraid I might hurt somebody. I know I don't really need to worry about it, our dad takes pretty good care of me, but look what I did to him, right?"

Scorpius' eyes were getting heavy with sleep, but he continued suckling on the bottle. Ran's arms were getting tired, but he didn't move an inch.

"I think I might have been a little jealous, too. I mean, since you're Draco's real son, and I'm that idiot Trent's son. Obviously Draco would love you more, and I thought Mum might, too. But I was just being an idiot, you know? I know they love me and everything. I really do have a pathetic lack of self-esteem, I guess."

He shifted Scorpius up onto his shoulder, like his mother had shown him, and patted the baby awkwardly on the back. "When do you learn to burp by yourself, anyway?" he muttered.

Scorpius belched in his ear, and sighed, laying his head against Ran's shoulder comfortably.

"You're all right, I guess," Ran said finally, taking his little brother back down off his shoulder and cradling him again. He didn't get up to put the baby to bed. "You know what? I think we should keep tonight just between us boys. That okay with you?"

Scorpius was asleep, but Ran nodded. "Yeah, that'll do. Just the two of us."

-o-o-o-

Draco and Vianne came through the door quietly, anxious to see how things had gone but not eager to wake Scorpius up. He'd only just started sleeping through the night, and they didn't want to mess up his schedule. They saw the light still on in the parlour where they'd left the boys, and hurried in there, hoping Ran was still up.

They stopped in the doorway and smiled at each other.

"It's so cute, I almost want to throw up," Draco whispered.

Vianne pinched him. "Be nice."

"To who? They're asleep," Draco pointed out.

"I know."

They watched them sleep for a few minutes. Ran was laying stretched out on the sofa, the book he'd been reading open on the floor. Scorpius, laying on his stomach, was cuddled up on Ran's chest, both of Ran's arms still around him while he slept. The baby's butt stuck up at a ridiculous angle, and his face was buried in Ran's shirt. He made tiny snuffling noises while he slept, and every time he did, Ran's arms would twitch, his subconscious reminding him to hold the baby carefully.

Vianne stepped forward at last with regret, and put one hand on Scorpius and the other on Ran's shoulder.

"Ran, honey," she whispered.

Ran's arms tightened and his eyes flew open. "I took care of it," he said, his voice slightly panicked. "The baby's okay."

"I see that," she smiled, and Ran relaxed as he recognized his mother. "I'm just going to take your brother and put him in his crib."

"I'll do it," Ran said, mind still a bit foggy. "I can do it."

"I know you can, but why don't you go get in bed, yourself?"

" 'Cause I gotta take care of my little brother," he said, still practically asleep.

"It's all right," Draco said, putting a hand on Ran's shoulder and guiding him out into the hallway. "You did good tonight."

"I guess I did," Ran said, sounding content. "Night."

"Goodnight."


	4. An Apartment in the City

An Apartment in the City

_For Laura sedai:_

_Edward was already brilliant—thanks for giving me the chance to make him even better!_

It looked to him, by Hermione's stillness and slightly reddened face, that she was holding her breath. That was to be expected. He was holding his breath, too. Anticipation warred with nerves for control over the butterflies in his stomach, and he carefully raised the wand she'd special-ordered for him after spending hours grilling him about his history and interests and testing out his affinities. It was made of alder wood, and was long and slender. He very much liked the feel of it. After intense practice with a borrowed wand, he was finally ready to try his own.

"Just write your name," she urged him. "Start with something simple."

He nodded, and paused to brush his hair back from his forehead. Looking rakish and slightly tousled was all well and good, but he disliked the way it tickled around his eyes because of the length. He steadied the wand, outstretched in front of him, again, and began writing, words of shimmering bluish cast.

_Edward Llewellyn Cavanaugh_

"Oh, that's splendid!" Hermione cried, waving her hands enthusiastically and catching his attention. "I knew it! I knew you had latent magic in you! And look how well you're bringing it out!" Her face turned comically puzzled. "Your middle name is really Llewellyn?" she wondered.

He made a face, but she grinned, only teasing him. He smiled back, and gave the new wand a bounce in his hand, testing its weight again. It was beautiful, all polished and fitting into his hand like he'd been born with it there. She'd told him he'd know if the wand was right for him, and it was. Without a doubt.

The words he'd written still hung there in the air, the hazy blue glow undiminished.

"Try erasing them," Hermione urged.

He did so, and then grabbed her in a warm and grateful hug. He'd given up on calling her "Ambassador," "Ms. Granger," or anything of the kind months ago. She'd said if they were going to work together all the time, they should get to know each other better than that. The fact that he could openly embrace a foreign ambassador ten years older than he—it was a thrill, even after several months. He'd never dreamed he'd end up working with the magical government. He'd always assumed he'd live as a Muggle, like his mother and father. Aunt Noreen and Cousin Shay had been so comfortable and experienced with their magic that he'd thought he had none. But when he'd met Peter, and Harry and Draco, he'd gotten too interested to stay out of it, even if he wasn't a wizard. But only a few weeks after starting to work with the extremely self-possessed and headstrong Ambassador, she'd insisted that he was indeed a wizard and she'd prove it to him.

He wrote _Edward_ again, just to look at it. He was a wizard, a real one. Just wait until he told his Mam and his Aunt Noreen. He'd been keeping the possibility a secret. Now that he knew for sure, he was going to surprise his mother. Well, next time he saw her, anyway. He was living in the city now, so he only saw her every few weeks. He didn't want to have to keep the secret that long.

"Edward, I've been wanting to ask you something," Hermione said, her face sober and intent. He immediately knew what was coming, but he gestured for her to continue.

"I know you're taking a couple of classes online, but I wasn't sure if you'd reconsidered this at all. I honestly think you ought to be in school full-time, and just work here a day or two a week. We would definitely have a place for you after you get a degree, if you still want to commit to this, but—"

Edward shook his head sharply. Still enchanted with his new ability, he wrote out his response in careful, blue-tinted letters.

_I'm still committed to this project. I think it's more important than my degree. A degree is only a piece of paper saying I've studied a subject. This is real experience that most people get their degree to find, and it's something that needs capable people involved. I think I've proved I can be of help here._

"You have, of course," Hermione assured him. "I just wanted to be sure you'd really thought about all your options."

_I've made my decision, and I don't regret it at all._

"We haven't really gotten our hands dirty, you know."

_I don't regret it yet_, he amended. After a few second's thought, Edward added, still laboring slowly,

_How's Maggie?_

Hermione took the hint and turned away a bit with her lips pursed to hold in her emotions. With Maggie gone to Hogwarts and Jean-Luc living in Canada with his father (whom Hermione didn't talk about even when she did mention her son), Edward got the feeling Hermione was substituting him in for the children she no longer had with her. Obviously she'd understood the meaning behind the question.

"Maggie's fine, doing really well, I think," Hermione said quickly. She put on a very business-like face. "Did you finish writing up the agenda for our meeting?"

Edward nodded, and went to his desk to get it from the file he was keeping for their upcoming meeting with the schools, so she could look over it and approve it. He was extremely excited about this. After weeks of the two of them going back and forth and calling Peter about every ten minutes for his input, they had a proposal written up for the three magical schools here to implement a scholarship program. His own contribution to the argument—that the numerous Muggleborns couldn't choose a private education and therefore the schools were an important step in preventing cases like Shawn Randall a few years ago—was written up quite convincingly. If he practiced writing, he might even be able to present the argument himself during the meeting. God, that would be so cool.

Hermione tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to find her holding the paper out to him. He smiled to apologize for his lack of attention, but she just smiled back.

"Looks good," she said. "Don't make copies until tomorrow, though, just in case we need to make any last-minute changes."

He nodded. He hadn't planned on doing the copies just yet—he'd gotten to know Hermione Granger far too well in the last few months to make that mistake.

-o-o-o-

When Edward unlocked his door and stepped inside, he was surprised to smell tomato sauce, but his brain quickly made the necessary adjustment. He'd been living on his own since leaving home, and his houseguest had only been here since yesterday, so he'd completely forgotten he wouldn't be coming back to an empty apartment. His mother kept telling him to get a cat so he'd have something to come home to, but he'd rather sleep in a box than deal with a cat.

Coming home to _this_, however, was kind of nice . . .

He could see the kitchen before anything else in the apartment, and he found the pan of tomato sauce and the pot of boiling spaghetti noodles unattended. Curious, he stepped further into the apartment.

" 'Lo," he called out, and wondered how loud he'd said it. He was never quite sure of his volume levels, because he'd quit the stupid voice lessons after only a couple of weeks in middle school. So he was deaf and he couldn't talk—everybody could just deal with it. For some reason, learning how to speak just made him feel like he was learning to pretend there was nothing wrong with him, and he'd hated it from the first day.

When he walked into the open living/dining area around the corner from the kitchen/laundry, he found what he was looking for stretched out on his loveseat—the biggest piece of furniture in the small apartment. Dark hair hanging tousled over his forehead, he was reading a newspaper article without looking up, so obviously Edward hadn't spoken loud enough. He didn't make any more noise, though. It was kind of fun to watch him absentmindedly twist a lock of hair through his fingers and tap his foot. Edward figured out quickly that there must be music on, since the foot tapping was rhythmic and bouncy, not just bored. He still looked pretty bad, though, and whatever he was reading was just making it worse. His face was tired and hollow, and now he was scowling.

The newspaper hit the coffee table.

Feeling like it was not the best time, but unable to keep standing there, Edward said again, " 'Ello."

He caught the headline of the article just when he said it. He winced.

_Jarvis leaves Mann for woman—first openly gay wizard couple is no more_

Even though Morgan caught the face he made, he just smiled and said,

"Oh, hey, I didn't hear you come in."

Edward shrugged and then raised his nose to indicate the smell from the kitchen, and smiled.

"Oh, yeah, I'm making dinner. I thought I ought to do something to thank you for letting me hide here for a few days."

Edward wanted to talk to him, but he wanted to save his surprise for a better moment, so he pulled out the pad of paper he kept in his pocket.

_Did you talk to Doug today?_

Morgan accidentally tore the note when he read it—a pretty clear indication that he hadn't, in fact, talked to Doug yet. He'd shown up at Edward's door yesterday without having spoken to his best friend past a few angry words exchanged when Doug announced his engagement to a woman Morgan hadn't known he'd been dating. Edward had been pressing him to call Doug and at least tell him where Morgan was so he didn't get worried when he couldn't find him. Morgan was inclined to let the other man panic for a few days.

Edward gave him a look of disapproval and went into the kitchen to check on the food. With his back turned, Morgan couldn't really argue the point, but Edward knew he was following him and trying to do it anyway. Morgan had been throwing tantrums off and on since arriving. Edward pretty much knew what he was saying, even without watching him. How dare Doug, and what happened, and why was he being so casual about this, and why hadn't he said something before, and this was going to ruin both of their Quidditch careers . . . and so on. Edward just stirred the pasta with his body slightly turned toward Morgan to he could at least give the impression of listening without actually doing it.

The argument was thin at best. They'd been best friends since the age of eleven. Doug's tastes had turned toward women pretty quickly after leaving Hogwarts, and Morgan had been well aware of it for a year. That he hadn't known about this particular woman and Doug's intentions toward her told Edward that Doug hadn't felt comfortable telling Morgan and Morgan obviously wasn't as okay with Doug's feelings as he professed to be—and _not_ that Doug was a conceited wanker.

Morgan finally seemed to notice that Edward wasn't looking at him, and shut up. Edward did look up when he stopped seeing Morgan's arms waving around out of the corner of his eye. Morgan had a rueful expression.

"I'm ranting again, aren't I?"

Edward nodded, with a small smile to excuse it.

"Sorry," he said, then raised one eyebrow. "At least I made dinner. Not that I can actually cook. I bought the sauce in a jar."

Edward gave him an inquisitive look.

Morgan gestured grandly. "Adventures in Muggle shopping. I sort of forgot about the money. I had some dollars, but I tried to pay the girl in Knuts first."

Edward was familiar with Knuts, had some that Cousin Shay had given him when he was a little kid, so he didn't ask the usual Muggle-indicative questions about why he would pay a cashier in newts. He found it funny that Morgan was acting apologetic about sauce in a jar. Apparently he hadn't opened the freezer and found all the frozen pizzas yet. The pantry contained cereal, soup, and not much else. Canned pasta sauce was practically gourmet, for him.

_What did she say?_ he wrote, and handed it to Morgan.

Morgan grinned. "I tried to tell her they were from Germany, but she'd been there before and she knows what their coins look like. I said," and he started laughing, "I said, 'that twat at the airport exchange office must have ripped me off! I'll kill the bloke for stealing from me!' and I ran off."

Edward put his hand over his mouth and laughed, too.

"You don't make any sound when you laugh," Morgan observed, his expression curious. "Do you cover your mouth on purpose?"

Edward's hand immediately went back to the pasta spoon he was stirring with and he shrugged. He could see Morgan thinking about it, but he just turned the range top burners off and got out a colander to drain the pasta.

Morgan tapped him on the shoulder. "Edward."

By his look of frustration, he'd called his name several times. Edward raised his eyebrows.

"You don't explain yourself to people very often, do you?"

Edward shrugged irritably. No, he didn't. He didn't much like to, because the only person he'd ever really found that would care enough to merit it was Kendall, and she was too embarrassed to ask him anything.

Morgan left his hand there on his shoulder. Edward didn't know how to feel about it. It was nice, on the one hand, but he hadn't given up on doing what he could to repair things between Morgan and Doug, either.

"I was just going to ask why you did that."

Edward dumped the drained pasta into the saucepan and gave it a hard stirring. He made an exaggerated laughing noise, which would save the explaining. It had been sometimes compared to a braying donkey, sometimes to a seal barking, and sometimes to a retard having a fit, depending on who was doing the comparing. He gave Morgan a challenging look. If Morgan wanted to make fun of him, he could, but Edward hoped he'd at least have enough decency not to do it while staying in Edward's apartment.

He didn't say anything, though. He just slid his hand up from Edward's shoulder to brush very quickly over his cheek, and then he was reaching past him into the cupboard for a couple of plates, which were clean only because Morgan had spent this morning washing the few dishes to be found. Edward was a huge fan of paper and plastic, even if it did mean taking out the trash all the time. He'd done enough dishes for a lifetime when he lived at home.

They ate dinner in silence, for the most part. Edward refused to try to read the lips of people who had their mouths full, and Morgan had good enough manners not to try it. But, when they were nearly done, Morgan looked at his watch and sighed.

"It's midnight at home. I wonder if Doug is nice and cozy in bed with _Jennifer_."

The last word was said with venom, and Edward had reached his limit. When he drew his new wand out, Morgan tensed to flee, but Edward just started slashing through the air and writing out what so desperately needed to be said.

_I thought he was your best friend. He certainly thinks so. You told me your love for Doug was unconditional. That should cover the possibility that he would fall in love with a girl. Just because you made one choice doesn't mean Doug has to make the same one. And you have a career with him. You're half of the great Beater duo that the papers said should never be separated on the Quidditch pitch. Are you going to give that up just because Doug decided to bring Jennifer into his life?_

Edward honestly had no idea how fast he was writing, but the labor of it was making sweat bead on his forehead. Morgan looked absolutely floored.

"When did you get a wand?" he asked.

_Never mind. If you love Doug, you'll talk to him. I like you, Morgan, but I don't like how easily you give up something like his friendship. Call him._

Edward turned around and stalked to his bedroom, leaving Morgan to the dishes and his thoughts. He tried to get to work on his homework for his online classes—he was still working on general studies while he tried to figure his life out—but neither geography nor English drew him in enough to stay focused. He found himself browsing the chat room for the English class, instead of reading through the lesson for the week. There were a couple of discussions on their assignments, but he started posting in an offshoot thread about various students' current favourite authors.

After a little while, he'd calmed down enough to get back to studying in earnest. He didn't know how much time passed before he felt a hand slide over his shoulder, and he jumped out of his chair in surprise. He hadn't forgotten about Morgan, but he'd definitely lost track of him. He had homework to do, he hadn't invited his guest, and Morgan was pissing him off, anyway. Edward hated it when people moped. Either do something about your bad situation or shut up.

But when he turned around, Morgan was smiling.

"I talked to Doug."

Edward crossed his arms to say "_and_?"

"I'm going home in a couple of days, and we'll have a chance to really talk. I mostly just called him to apologize. You're right. About not giving up his friendship, I mean. When we decided to be friends, we never said girls would come between us. If Doug doesn't want his relationship with Jennifer to end our friendship, then it doesn't have to. He says Jennifer understands. Or she's trying to, anyway." Morgan pulled a face. "Apparently, I have to spend time getting to know her, too. Doug insists I will adore her."

Edward, his secret spoiled already anyway, took out his wand again. _I'm glad to hear it_, he wrote out. _You guys have a really unique friendship that I think the rest of the world would envy. You can't lose that._

Morgan chuckled in response to that. "I think I came close, but we still have a chance." Then his face became very serious. "Not that I don't appreciate the honesty, but why are you being so vehement about it?"

Edward shrugged.

Morgan's smile was sad. "You're one of the envious people, huh?"

Edward shrugged again. Who wouldn't be? Maybe he tended to isolate himself a little bit, but with how hard he was working in the rest of his life, when did he have the time to fight to make up for his disability finding a best friend, too?

Morgan glanced over Edward's shoulder to the computer screen and saw his homework. He shook his head. "You work too hard," he said, seeming to echo Edward's thoughts. "Don't you ever take time off?"

Edward held up his hands in a gesture of helplessness.

"Well, you're taking tonight off," he declared grandly, and grabbed Edward by both wrists to pull him out of his desk chair. "It's only polite when you have company."

When Edward let Morgan pull him up, Morgan didn't let go or move to the side, meaning Edward just sort of ran into him. Morgan held him there, trapped by the wrists.

"Doug's my best friend," he said, looking at Edward with a look Edward had never been given before in his life. "But as far as boyfriends go, he's taken himself out of the running long since. I'm currently looking for someone whose intelligence and work ethic far outstrip my own, someone who's sort of beautiful and sometimes randomly kisses strangers from another country. You know anyone like that?"

Morgan's tumble of neglected hair was hanging in his eyes again, and Edward was close enough to smell the remnants of tomato sauce on his breath. Edward wasn't much used to being talked to like that, but now that he was thinking about it, he supposed he _did_ know someone much like that.


End file.
